


want to make out

by taylortot



Series: the way i love you [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kissing, Late at Night, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylortot/pseuds/taylortot
Summary: in which keith leads lance to a late night rendezvous in a secret spot





	want to make out

Keith is sitting there in the stove top light, going over the assignments for tomorrow, as any good team leader would, when he hears the soft scuffle of boots in the hall, quickly approaching. He sets his half-gone mug of coffee back down on the counter top and lifts his eyes from the tablet screen in front of him to look at the dark doorway. 

Lance swings into view, looking far too bright-eyed for the late hour. He’s half-dressed; his uniform jacket hangs open in the front, the sleek, black turtleneck underneath clinging to him like a second skin, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His hair looks as though he’s done nothing but run his hands through it for hours and the yellow light from the stove falls across half of his face, turning his skin the color of warm butterscotch.

“So you  _ are _ alive,” Keith says, his voice rough from hours of disuse.

Lance beams at him, pausing in the doorway. The look on his face tells him that he hadn’t expected to find company here. It also tells him that he’s glad he has. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Kogane. Did ya miss me?”

He always misses Lance when they’re not together, but he still doesn’t know how to say that out loud. “You should eat,” he says instead, peeling his eyes away to focus back on the tablet.

“You read my mind. I am  _ starving _ ,” Lance admits and there’s the flicker of his shadow as he crosses in front of the light towards the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. “I bet Hunk made something really delicious. Aw man, you should have woken me up.”

Keith grabs his coffee without looking up and takes a sip. “There’s a plate for you in the fridge,” he says simply.

The sound of Lance’s footsteps come to a stop and then change directions towards him. He glances up just in time to see Lance place one hand on the counter and then lean in, his lips brushing against the hair at Keith’s temple. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and Keith can feel warmth, all velvet and smooth and candlelight soft, rising in his chest. Lance pulls back and looks down at him with tenderness that Keith will spend his whole life making sure he deserves.

“You worked hard today; you earned that nap,” Keith tells him, running his thumb absently along the edge of his mug.

Lance rolls his eyes, but his smile is unwavering and so fond that it makes Keith’s chest hurt. “So did everyone else. You’re not giving little ol’ me special treatment just because I’m your boyfriend, are you, team leader?”

“No.” And it’s true, really, that Lance both deserved the nap and that he worked hard today. Keith doesn’t think that qualifies as special treatment at all.

Lance scoffs, the tease evident in his expression. “Then why do I even bother?”

Keith smirks, because there are about 10 different things in his arsenal that would make Lance eat those words, but looks he back at his tablet and takes another sip of coffee. “Eat, Lance.”

Lance pats his shoulder as he moves towards the fridge. “Fine, fine. What are you still doing up, anyway?”

“Going over our assignments for tomorrow. The Garrison has been breathing down Shiro’s neck about crap military standards, or something, so I figure it makes him look good if we’re prepared.” He flicks his wrist for a new page and continues to read.

“Really? You should have told me.” Lance makes so much noise pulling the plate out of the fridge and putting it in the microwave it’s a wonder that anyone in the compound is still asleep. Keith finds himself smiling about it, shaking his head slightly, thinking that he must be weird if even Lance’s inability to be quiet at midnight is endearing.

“It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it,” Keith says.

“Can you at least let me read, too?”

“If you want to.”

“Oh, you  _ know _ I want to.” Keith doesn’t have to turn around to know that Lance is probably waggling his eyebrows or making some other exaggerated expression. Instead, he pulls out the stool beside him and gives it a pat, looking up at nothing in particular as he waits for Lance’s food to finish re-heating.

They sit in silence for a good fifteen minutes. Lance eats quickly beside him and Keith holds his hand under the table, their intertwined fingers resting on top of Keith’s thigh. His thumb rubs idle patterns against Lance’s skin, slow and lazy, their attention on the tablet as they finish reading through Shiro’s instructions together.

“So…Keith.”

“Hmm?” Keith turns off the tablet and looks over at Lance, who is leaning on the counter with his elbow, his cheek propped up in his free hand. He’s giving Keith an overly innocent look, all wide eyes and lifted eyebrows. The stove light turns him into a pretty silhouette, soft and warm around the edges, and Keith is helpless to the urge that has him bringing the back of Lance’s captive hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss there.

“I’m not tired,” Lance says. “Obviously. I just napped for, like, six hours.”

“Mm.” Keith drops their hands back to his lap, but there is heat in the pit of his stomach that asks for more.

“And judging by the amount of caffeine I know you just inhaled, you’re not tired either.”

“I guess not.”

“I think we should reward ourselves for doing our homework.”

Lance really isn’t subtle at all and Keith still hasn’t figured out if that’s on purpose or not. “Of course,” he obliges.

“Sooo…” Lance moves his eyes in a wide loop before smiling boyishly at Keith. “Want to make out?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Lance laughs as Keith pulls him off the stool and towards the door, leaving both the dirty dishes and the tablet on the counter. “Where are we going?”

Keith looks over his shoulder at him as he drags Lance into the dark hallway. “To make out.”

Lance smothers his answering laughter into the palm of his free hand and Keith doesn’t let him go, quickly skirting through the empty hallways and passing the Garrison soldiers on night patrol without a single glance. The walk to Keith’s destination is taking longer than Lance apparently expected, because he starts complaining about five minutes later.

“ _ Keith _ ,” he moans dramatically, long and drawn out, “ugh, for real, where are we going? I wanna kiss you.”

Keith abruptly stops and drags Lance in close, claiming his mouth in one chaste kiss before pulling away, drawing on all the willpower he has not to crowd Lance up against the wall right here in the middle of a hallway. It’s too dark to see Lance’s expression as he faces forward again and continues walking, but he thinks that Lance is probably smiling that dopey smile he gets when Keith indulges him.

There are plenty of dark corners around here; Keith doesn’t have to take Lance all the way down here, to the education buildings. But he’s had this idea for a while now, and he knows that Lance will appreciate it, the same way that Lance appreciates pretty much any of Keith’s ideas. Especially when they involve sneaking around and kissing.

“Do you have a make out spot from the good old days I don’t know about?” Lance whispers as Keith leads him down the last hallway.

“No,” he replies quietly. “Do you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not the one dragging us all the way down to the–” he stops short as Keith slowly opens the last door and pulls Lance in after him. “Oh my god, Keith.”

Keith finds himself grinning as Lance’s footsteps quicken beside him.

“Oh my god, Keith. Who even are you. These are the–these are the  _ flying simulators _ .”

He pulls Lance right up to the door of one pod and punches in the keycode he might have asked Pidge to hack several days ago. Not expressly for make out purposes, but this is a gigantic perk. “We can’t fly it,” Keith explains, “but–”

The door slides open and the interior is glowing a warm, dim orange, the simulation screen pitch black. Before Keith can take another step, Lance sandwiches his face between his hands, squishing his cheeks, forcing Keith to look at him.

“You brought me all the way down to the flying simulators to make out?” Lance’s voice is highly questioning, like he’s trying to figure something very important out.

“Yes…?” The word is higher than usual at the end and he raises an eyebrow, trying to gauge Lance’s reaction in just the low light of the simulation room.

“I love you  _ so much _ . How are you real.”

Keith grins again, his cheeks squishing even more under Lance’s hands, and then his palms are finding Lance’s narrow waist and pulling him in until he’s flush against the line of his body. The hands on his cheeks brush back through the ends of Keith’s hair, arms wrapping around his neck. He breathes out, a gentle little tremor, and leans in, and then they’re kissing.

He walks Lance backwards into the simulator and pauses only briefly to hit a button on the inside to close the door, his hand fumbling before it finds its mark.

Lance hums against his mouth happily, half a chuckle, and then sighs and Keith can feel the way he melts into him, the way Lance lays himself against Keith’s chest and holds on tight. Keith slides one hand up and under the back of Lance’s jacket, pressing his palm to the delicious hollow between his shoulder blades and relishing the sound of approval that purrs in Lance’s throat.

“Would this be considered ‘special treatment?’” Lance breathes out as Keith settles down into the pilot’s chair and pulls Lance onto his lap. He quickly slides the jacket off of Lance’s shoulders and kisses the line of his jaw as Lance’s fingers make quick work on the buttons on Keith’s jacket.

“Well,” Keith murmurs, his mouth moving slowly towards the corner of his jaw and then down along the elegant line of Lance’s neck, “you’re special to me.”

Lance sighs, tipping his head back as his hands wrench open the last of the jacket and then slide sensually down Keith’s chest. “I bet you say that to all of your make out boys,” he says, voice airy, teasing again.

“Just one.” Heat burns through Keith like a shot of hard liquor when he opens his mouth and is rewarded with a throaty sound, vibrating there against his tongue. He tugs at the hem of Lance’s shirt and inches his fingers underneath, slow enough to heighten the anticipation, but quick enough to ease his own desperation.

“Who–Who is he?” Lance demands indignantly, playfully, but it’s weak and breathless and it has Keith’s stomach sinking deeper in on itself.

“You don’t know him,” he says, working open-mouthed kisses back up to Lance’s cheek.

Lance laughs at that, almost too loud and Keith’s heart trips over itself again, falling the way it does whenever Lance exists in any proximity to him. And it seems impossible, that someone like Lance with his unending kindness and his selfless approach to love could want someone like Keith, who is still learning how to trust people to stay. His hands and mouth become a little more hurried, a little more wanting, gripping at the hot skin beneath his touch and murmuring silent confessions against bitten red lips.

Lance then cups Keith’s jaw, slowing him down, guiding him in for a more tender kiss. His voice is so gentle and unbearably fond that Keith can scarcely breathe. “Hey, darling, we got time.”

They do have time. And Keith makes every last second count.

 


End file.
